I Don't Have The Right Name
by halfbad
Summary: "I want to protect him," You hesitate because you've never said it before and could Jean possibly understand if you did? "Because he's all I have and if protecting him isn't what I'm supposed to do, what else is there for me?" {{{{rated M because who knows what might happen later on?}}}
1. Chapter 1

_Do you know what happens when you see something you really wished you had never seen? Something that you know will be imprinted in your mind like tattoos into skin for the rest of your life, it might fade a little over time, but it will still remain there when the school pen in your hand has been replaced by a walking stick and you're living life from a the depths of a comfy armchair, wrapped up warm with memories of the past. _

_**You can see his long, bony fingers working through her light ginger hair. You had always thought that hair unremarkable in every single possible way. It fell short and choppy at her shoulders; lifelessly. It didn't have any extra shine or bounce or anything, it was just ordinary. But now. Now, it was different when it was slightly mused and with the rays of a setting sun behind it. It looked like her hair had been spun from the rays of sunlight and only his hands were permitted from Apollo to touch it, and you care about what those hands are doing. **_

_Did you know that every single moment before that, the moments you wish you could erase from your memory, bubble right back up to the surface too? They punch you in the gut and that pain, searing and twisting, ripples through your body like it wants to get to know every single fibre of it as intimately as possible. The pain reminds you that you'll never be able to go back and change what you've done and what you haven't._

_**You can see her fingers in his hair too. Playing with the shorter strands at the nape of his neck and then twirling playfully with the longer ones on top, they looked comfortable their like they were familiar with the act; acting like it was normally to possess another person's hair that way. They're forehead to forehead, hip to hip and nose to nose; pressed together like two puzzle pieces that don't fit together but with all their soul want to. They want to so bad they'd push themselves into positions they've never been in just to fit. Cheek pressed against cheek. Knees brushing against knees. Nose rubbing against another's nose. Lips pressed against lips. **_

_That's the first wave of memories that take over you. The second comes with startling clarity and vibrant colours, like everything but the past is dull and lacking in light and colour. The second wave hits and teases you, bringing forth all the clues, all the signals, which should have led you to this moment without you ever having to experience it. They should have shown you what was going to happen, make it easy to read and see the situation for what it is. But you missed them. You let them go; you let them waltz away like dust being brushed away. It was so easy to forget about those little, easily thrown away details. You should have held onto them tighter and built up armour with those pasts. _

_**Lips pressed against lips**_

_**Kissing**_

_**They're sharing the taste of their lips with each other**_

_**The taste of their breath, sharing oxygen**_

_**They're sharing that feeling of being close to someone else and capturing each other unsaid words**_

_**That's all you can see, and you feel sick; sick to bone, ill to the core. It feels like a sickness you've always carried but you've only just became aware that it's there. It's like the floor has been pulled out from under you and you're falling and falling and you're never going to hit the ground. You feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. What you're seeing can't be real? It's all wrong, because this shouldn't have happened this way; it was never supposed to happen like this. You never saw this one coming. **_

_**You feel betrayed. **_

_Then you become numb. _

_The numbness is always going to come to you eventually. It spreads over your body like how frost forms on grass through icy nights. You become numb because there really is no other way to deal with what you're seeing, because you hadn't prepared yourself for this. Numb and empty and lost, because you can't fathom how this can be real. _

_**You hold your breath, you know that if you let out a sound they'll here you and you'll have to face the truth. **_

_You want to run away._

_**You stumble back through the open door, catching yourself silently as you trip a little on the uneven flooring. **_

_You want to hide._

_**You press the palms of your hands to your eyes. You don't want to see anything anymore, but it's painted across your eyelids and haunting the normally welcomed darkness.**_

_You _

_**Lift your gaze**_

_Fight_

_**Her eyes widen in surprise **_

_The_

_**He lets out a gasp**_

_Tears_

_**Because they've caught you and you've caught them**_

_You can feel _

_**And you can't escape and this is real**_

_Burning at the back_

_**Teal- green eyes meet your stare and his mouth opens**_

_Of your grey eyes_

"_**I can explain everything."**_

_But you really don't believe he can. _

A fist connects with his cheek as Armin tries to dodge to the right, he's not fast enough to miss it, but he doesn't get the full effect, thankfully. It's still enough to send him sailing into the brick wall behind him, though. The wall was part of the building he'd been hiding behind; hiding to complete the maths homework no one else really cared about. Blood gushes from a gash in his eyebrow and a small gasp escapes his lips as another fist finds its home in his gut.

He doesn't cry. Armin never cries and that only makes it harder to watch. Harder because someone who's getting beaten up for the first time would cry out and Armin doesn't. Armin takes it in silence, only speaking up when his bully finally thinks up something smart enough to say. Armin doesn't cry because this, being outnumbered and bloody, is a place he's been before.

The three boys who play the role of Armin's tormenter today are unfamiliar; perhaps they're boys from the higher year. One has hair like cooper, one is tall with an ugly tattoo creeping up under his school collar and the other has a shaved head with a bar going through his eyebrow. I don't care if I know them and neither does Eren as he slams a fist into the nearest boy's chin and tackles him to the ground. We stare at them for a split second; the boy, with the eyebrow bar, holding Armin by his collar, their third accomplice with the coopery hair and I.

They roll around; Eren swinging wild and unaimed punches while the other looks up at his friends to help. Neither of them does; something which I can't help but think is a smart move on their part.

I don't even give them a glance before I tie my fingers through Eren's hair and yank him always, staring stonily at the boy underneath him. A trickle of blood is running from Eren's nose, but he doesn't seem to notice as he squirms away from me and reaches out towards the boys, hands balled up into fists.

He won't get away; he should understand that by now. I've got nothing but a firm grip on him.

"Mikasa, what are you doing?" I tighten my grip in his hair and twist him away from the boys, so he's standing straight and looking right at me. I don't let go. The boys murmuring carries on the wind so I can hear him say something to the boy still holding onto Armin and as I glance at them, I see their eyes grow wider. "I was avenging-" I pinch his cheek before he can finish, earning myself a miserable look from him.

"You were about to get your ass kicked," I let go of him and look over to where Armin is, "Again." I add, knowing that without looking back at him he'd have turned two shades brighter pink then he was a minute ago, and five shades more pissed. Last time Eren got into a fight defending Armin was still fresh in my mind and the bruises that shaded his skin were too, he didn't need any more gems to add to his ever growing collection.

"Mi-ka-Mikasa? Mikasa Ackerman?!" The idiot holding onto Armin stumbles over my name and his grip loosens on Armin, who lets out a relieved sigh and pushes his hands away roughly before collapsing back onto the wall and pushing his hair away from his face before it gets stuck in it.

"Are you okay, Armin?" He nods slightly and raises his blue eyes to meet mine. He shouldn't have done that. I could convince myself that after years of receiving these beatings he'd build up some kind of resistance to it; that he'd become hardened against it and his skin wouldn't break and bruise as easily as a peach, that the pain wouldn't get to him as much. He even would try to convince me that he had, but I was wrong, and his wide eyes were what were constantly giving him away.

They were like blue crystal glass; clear, sharp and easy to see through. They told me that the cut on his eyebrow was deeper than it initially looked. That the hit to his cheek wasn't the first one he'd received, that this had been going on for a while before Eren and I had arrived. That if we had arrived a little bit later there might have been tears mixed in with the blood. Eren must see it too, because he's wriggled out of my grip and is jumping at the guy I had only just detached him from again.

I don't go after him this time. Instead, I rub the knuckles of my right hand against the palm of my left and shift my glare to the guy who'd been punching Armin a few minutes ago. It felt longer than a few minutes, but it always did. He had been laughing when Eren and I had rounded the corner in our search for Armin, his head thrown back with a grin spread from ear to ear. He looked more like a sugar addict who'd been given a shit load of candy for Christmas then a guy about to smash his fist into someone's face. "Tell me, will you still be laughing when I slap that grin off your face?"

He's not grinning now, in fact his friend is tugging him on his arm and he's backing away. Eren groans and I sigh when I see him lying on the ground clenching his nose. "Liam, let's go." Maybe the guy tugging with cooper for hair, the one who is talking to Liam, is pretty smart after all. He doesn't look like he wants to be there and he'd already been backing away with his tail between his legs when we got there.

We stare off against each other for a second before the three moves away from us backwards, their hands placed forward like they're trying soothe a wild beast, their eyes darting from my face to Armin and then to Eren and then repeating the sequence again. I look down at Eren; he doesn't look much like a wild beast with blood dripping from his nose and his school shirt and tie pulled askew. They don't start running until they've reached the far side of the wall and are tripping over each other in order to get around the corner and out of our line of sight.

We're behind the science block, a building situated on the Far East side of campus and away from the rest of the buildings. It had surprised me that no one else came down here when we first arrived at the school, so it had become our spot. People had tried to weasel their way in, like a group of smokers from the year below and a few couples searching for a safe place to make out, but Eren had sent them packing. Sent them packing after earning himself a swollen ankle and a grazed chin in the first case and a wave of the middle finger with the second case.

This was our place; mine and Eren's and Armin's. This was a quiet place just for us. When we needed some time away from the busy rush of the school day or wanted to breathe some air that wasn't been shared by one of our classmates or when Armin had homework he need to do, this was where we came. As we had climbed up the school years, most people had come to understand that and didn't bother us anymore, but there was always someone, or in this case three someones.

Eren rips some of his shirt off and presses it to his nose, making me want to roll my eyes at him. I would've gone to get him something if he had just asked. He knew I would've. I always do and I always will.

Hannes wasn't going to like it when I told him tonight on our weekly phone call that he'd have to buy Eren some new shirts. He had already had to buy a new pack a couple of weeks ago, he wouldn't be happy to hear that after two weeks Eren had already burned through all twelve of them already.

Eren bends down to help Armin, but he shakes his head and shoves away Eren's outstretched hand gently. I knew Eren was just trying to help him, but Armin never wanted help after being knocked down, so why they went through the process each time this happened, I would never understand. Armin would heave himself up in his own time, by himself.

Part of the charm of the science block was what lay beyond it. Blossom trees and this is where we sat every day, under the cover of the trees and away from everything else. The world seemed less real here, like there couldn't possibly be anything more to the world beyond the blossom and the science block. This was our world.

Armin shuffles over to them, dragging his bag behind him and wincing with every step. It was painful to watch and I had to fight to keep myself from walking over to flip him over my shoulder and carry the remainder of the way, but I knew better then to embarrass him that way, so I wait with Eren. Both of us watching and poised just in case we ever needed to dart over and help our friend.

I don't move until Armin has slid down the bark of the closet tree and Eren has moved to sit next him; I follow him. Sinking down on my knees besides Eren, I survey the damage inflicted on my two friends; nothing too serious, they might wake up a bit sore, but at least they'll be waking up in their own beds and not in the medical room.

"Why'd you stop me, Mikasa?" Eren looks at me sideways after interrogation Armin over what had happened. Armin said it was the usual, that they just needed someone weaker to take their anger out on and he was just there at the right time. I can't say I'd call it the right time. Eren also asks him how he got the cut in his eyebrow; Armin says that they were trying to make him more punk rock, whatever that meant. Armin said it like it was ironic and laughs lightly to himself. I asked him what they were angry about, but Armin just shrugs and says he didn't have time to ask in between the hits. Then he bows his head over as he pulls out his homework and hastily starts scribbling down answer after answer.

Eren's angry at me; he looks just like his mother when he's angry. The look he's wearing now, that was the last look I ever saw pass across her face and it causes me to finch away from him seeing it mirrored on his. He doesn't even notice. "I don't need you to look out for me." Funny that, I think, because can't he see I always am.

"_**I can explain everything."**_

_You can't find your voice. It's stuck like bubble-gum in your throat and you're about to choke on it. Words, what are words? They are traps for people to fall into and they're trapped; trapped from escaping and making themselves real and trapping people with their pretty lies and hurting people with their revolting truths. The silence drags around you and you've lost sense of what you're eyes are looking at. You can't separate him from her, even now. Even now they've pull away from each other, heaving long, deep and fast breaths, breaths that fill the silence like rushing water in a glass case. The water only has to push a little too hard until the glass shatters. You feel like you're drowning in the silence, but also wishing that it would never go away. _

_But you don't need words because someone already has them for you. Someone you didn't realise was there, but a small, tiny part of you is glad he is. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and his voice speaks up from behind you, his breath ticking your neck and making you shiver. He's made you move even though you were sure that you were frozen. "Are you sure about that, Eren?" He breaks the glass case for you. _

_You don't know how long he'd been stood behind you. The whole time? Who knew? He wouldn't need to have been there the whole thing; you already know that. Eren's top is scrunched up and wrinkled from when she had been holding on to it and her face is flushed and there was no denying both of their ruffled hair. He would have been a fool not to understand what had happened here, even without taking into account the pink lipstick which is smudged over each of their lips. He had seen it. You had seen it, and you almost wish you hadn't. _

"_Jean-!" And then it comes rushing down on you and you realise that you can't be there. You can't listen to him. You don't want to hear the words now; he shouldn't be saying them now. He could have been saying them ba- you run; leaving only Jean to shout after you. You would have told him, that's all you can think. That's the words you wish you could say to him; they're the words you need to say. They're the words lodged painfully in your throat. You wouldn't have betrayed him like this. Eren doesn't call after you and his quietness does nothing but push you on. _

_He's not even trying to stop and explain to you. That's fine you try to tell yourself, you don't need for him to explain to you and then_

_You run_

"_**Mikasa!"**_

_And you run_

"_**Jesus Christ, Mikasa stop!"**_

_Until you can't hear your own thoughts over you laboured breathing_

_**A phone rings behind you, an annoyingly chirpy tune which is cut short by "Not now, Marco. Can we talk later?" then a pause and a "Mikasa, please you have to stop." He's pleading. **_

_You don't stop and never want to. You speed up, pumping your arms and pulling away from the scene even further; pulling away from Eren. You've never needed the distance before, but now you need it like oxygen. You need the space between you, because right then it feels like it's closing in on you and you're starting to understand what it feels like to be claustrophobic. _

"_**Mikasa, I know how you must feel, but-" The ringtone starts playing again and he lets out a string of curse words down the phone before hanging up with no explanation. He's breathing heavy now, but he doesn't let it stop the words. **_

_Run_

"_**Mikasa,**_

_Run_

_**TALK TO ME, MIKASA**_

_Run faster_

_**I'M RIGHT HERE**_

_Run harder_

_**YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUN FROM ME**_

_RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!_ _RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!_

_**I'M ON YOUR SIDE **_

_RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!_ _RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!_

_**YOU KNOW THAT, DON'T YOU?**_

_Your thoughts are so scrambled, you don't think you do_

_**MIKASA! WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL GROUNDS**_

_You don't see anything around you but a blur of colours, colours that are too bright and beautiful to belong in this cruel world. You're running so fast you don't see details; you don't know where you're going. All you want is to feel the burning in your lungs and a stitch in your side and blisters on your feet. You want to run and run until it hurts so you can focus on something, on anything. _

_**MIKASA! **_

_You don't want to hear him_

_**STOP, MIKASA, YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL OUT HERE**_

_You don't see anything_

_**STOP, MIKKKKAAASSSSSSSAAAAAAAAA**_

_You don't see the car._


	2. Chapter 2

_**His arm closes around your waist and pulls you up so your head is resting on his thigh as the car screeches to a stop and the driver stumbles out from within it. He had been careful at first, scared that by was touching you it could have made it worse, but living with Armin and Eren your whole life you had picked up a knack for first aid, involuntarily and talked him through the steps in checking over your body. You think you're fine. Mostly. **_

_**His face is now buried in the crook of your neck and he is heaving in strained breaths. His whole body is rocking against you, moving your body with the rhythm of his breathing. You want to tell him that **_**that**_** hurt more than getting hit by the car, but you doubt he'd appreciate that comment right now.**_

"_**Don't," he's not speaking above a whisper, with breath rolling over your skin in cold waves and is shaking his head against you're shoulder, "Don't ever do that again." He can barely get the words out, but you can't tell him you're okay, so you glance up at down at him through half closed eyes and raise your brows at him when he risks a glance up. **_

"_**You're no fun. Can't you see I'm gagging to get hit by the next one?" Now you've stopped running and you're body is aching in places that shouldn't be, the full force of what is happening hits you; hits you in knees like the car did, propelling you backwards and smacking your too full of thoughts head off the road. The ground is hard and wet, a place you'd never seen yourself hitting. You head throbs, the muscles in your legs are sore and you feel grazed all over, you feel like someone had been rubbing you up against a grater. But it's not your body that is hurting the most.**_

"_**Mikasa?!" **_

_**Eren didn't tell you.**_

_**Why didn't he tell you? **_

_**Jean is holding you with both his arms one wrapped under your head and holding a piece of cloth the car driver had given him to slow the bleeding from the cut in your head while the other's draped gently over your stomach and shaking you; so gently you can barely feel it.**_

_**Eren had kept a secret from you. He'd locked it away deep in the dungeons of his soul and you'd just happened to stumble down the staircase leading to it. **_

_**You'd been through so much together; You, Eren and Armin. There had never been anything hid between you. Up until now. Even though the rest of the world felt like a mystery you thought you could read Eren better then you could read yourself, but he'd hid this from you. He knew he could've come to you, didn't he? Didn't he know that you, Mikasa Ackerman, would do anything for him?**_

_**He'd hid it from you and it wouldn't matter what he told you later, you knew deep down at the centre of your bones that he hadn't any intention of telling you about what you had just witnessed. He was only going to let it slip if he had to, or if you had found out by yourself; just like you had. He didn't even think that would happen or else he would have had an excuse ready.**_

_**Hadn't you always been there for him?**_

_**Hadn't you always been by his side? **_

_**Even when you didn't like it, didn't agree with it, you had always tried to be there for him. You could always find a way to justify his actions no matter because he was Eren. You could convince yourself that Eren was right because was everything to you. To you and to Armin, and-**_

_**And Armin. He doesn't know. He had kept it from Armin, too. Weren't you all best friends?**_

"_**Mikasa," his voice is softer his time, and you realise that the pressure on your skull has increased and he's casting worried glances up and down you. There's no danger from cars anymore, but he's still holding on to you like you might sprint away from him if he dare lets you go. Even being the best in P.E. class you couldn't say that there was much chance of that right now. **_

_**He smells like Sandalwood and vanilla, and if you turned your head you could probably discover ever shade of light and dark brown hair that covers his head. His head is still pressing in your shoulder, "The ambulance will be here soon," He's saying it to reassure himself "Can you keep talking to me? Please!" **_

_**He waits **_

_**And he waits **_

_**He waits until you nod, until you mutter "Eren never told me" and then he's sitting up straight again, his head hung low but his line of sight on your hands. He looks like he wants to take them instead but he brushes your hair away, only for it to fall back across it.**_

"_**Jealous Mikasa is going to give me a heart attack," Jean sighs out in frustration, pushing a hand through his hair and rubbing the palm of his other hand into his one eye. He looks tired and you can't help but what to sit up, to tell him you're fine and send him back to the campus grounds. Jean Kirstein, the boy who could cause conflict with just one too honest look, now looked more worried than you'd ever seen him. It made you feel uncomfortable being surveyed by the expression. **_

"_**I'm not jealous," and you're not. You're mad and sad, furious and betrayed. That's it, above everything else you feel betrayed by Eren. You had been together since you're parents had been taken away from you. You'd been together through his mother's passing. It had always been Mikasa and Eren, and then it had been Mikasa, Eren and Armin; the unlucky trio of Shiganshina town and then of Maria Private School for both girls and boys. "He never told me." **_

_**It dawns on you that this was the first time you'd ever really been alone with Jean. There had been times during school, but you were never truly alone there. There were always people surrounding you, always hushed voices bouncing around you and forever there was more than one set of eyes following you. But you'd run from all that**_

_**And Jean had followed without you needing to ask of it. **_

_**You can feel yourself growing dizzy and your grip on everything around you is slipping, but at least Jean is there and you're not alone. It's cold outside. Cold, dark and silent, but Jean's here and it doesn't seem as daunting with him there. Perhaps because he doesn't let the silence stretch too long, "Does that really warrant this reaction?" He sounds resigned, like any answer you give him won't be what he wants to here, but you can't think of anything else to say so you say it again;**_

"_**Eren never told me." The words are starting to feel more real. Before when they were caught up inside you, they felt like mist. They felt like they were going to disperse if you didn't capture them in your hands and hold onto them like your life depended on it. It had felt like you were just remembering something you'd read when you was younger, but the memory doesn't feel completely right. **_

_**Saying it out loud gave it blood and flesh, and can hear the bells of truth ringing out in the words. It's given them the ugly wings of a moth so they can fly and experience some kind of freedom. It doesn't make you feel any lighter; it doesn't make you feel any freer from the pain. **_

_**Jean doesn't say anything and you wonder what he's thinking. You're wondering why he ran after you when he could have ran to the teachers instead. He choose comforting you over getting Eren into deep shit, so deep you're sure he could drown in it, which would have been a very fine prize for him. He followed after you, even when you ran faster and tried to get away. He didn't back down. You glance through the strands of the bit of black hair that had fallen over your face to look at him. He's still huffing in air; you didn't think you'd run that fast but it seemed you had, or perhaps Jean had been slacking in P.E recently. **_

"_**If he had, what would you have said to him?" His voice surprises you and you raise your gaze to the stars when he looks over to you. You can barely make them out as the world slows and becomes hazy around you. The stars are brighter out here than they are back home. They're so, so beautiful. **_

_**What would you have said to Eren? That was easy.**_

"_**I would have protected him." Like you always had, like you had promised you would. **_

"_**What if he doesn't need protecting, Mikasa," Jean asks not so gently, almost angrily, "That's not your job. You're his friend, not his girlfriend." A hand is back in his hair again and he's twisting it furiously, tugging and pulling like he's trying to find a way to get his thoughts out. Jean didn't find words difficult normally. **_

"_**I don't want to be his girlfriend." The blush is spread across your face without your permission and glare skywards. That's what they always assume when they see you trailing after Eren. **_

"_**Y-you don't?" He's stammering and the blush that colours his cheeks spreads across his face before he can avoid it coming to your attention. You let out a small gasp as pain flares up in your side from where you hit the ground and it takes you more than a minute to focus back on Jean, back on to what you were talking about. You didn't want to talk.**_

_**You wanted to close your eyes and sleep. You want to sleep for as long as it takes for Eren to realise he should have come to you, for as long as it takes for Armin to realise he could take the helping hand every now and again, and for as long as it takes for Mr. Smith to realise letting his boyfriend attack his eyebrows with wax was not a smooth move at all. Perhaps waking up when Hannes forgave himself would be nice, too. You just want to sleep. **_

"_**I want to protect him," You hesitate because you've never said it before and could Jean possibly understand if you did? "Because he's all I have and if protecting him isn't what I'm supposed to do, what else is there for me?" Why are you talking to Jean of all people about this?**_

_**You had hit your head too hard after all. **_

_**Jean is silent for longer now, like for once he is weighing up his words and thinking carefully about what affect they may have. You wait, patiently, until Jean shakes his head and leans back. He has a look of disbelief on his face, like he can't believe something you didn't hear. "I never understood…." He says softly and the light flickers on in his eyes before he carries on in an even softer voice, "Eren's such an idiot."**_

_**For once you don't jump to Eren's defence straight away, perhaps because you don't understand why Jean's calling him an idiot right now or maybe because you're tired. You're the kind of tired that sleeping isn't the medicine for, you realise. You're drained as if all the energy has been sucked out of you and crushed and turned into irretrievable dust motes. **_

_**Or maybe, just maybe, it's because this time you can't help but agree. **_

"_**Stop thinking he's all you have," He sighs out after a long pause, "You could have so much more, if you stopped thinking like that. You can have more than just Eren. You can have more," He looks right at you know with searching eyes, "Family. You could have more family, but acting like there's just Eren and that he's the centre of the universe, isn't the way. A family with only two, three people is easier to break then one with say seven and upwards." **_

_**You can feel the world fading away and the last thing you hear is the sirens of an ambulance and Jean as he leans and murmurs across your forehead, "I thought you were stronger than me" before you descend into darkness.**_

_**Is this how Kalura felt? **_

"Eren!" His mother's voice comes sharp and piercing at us as soon as Eren stumbles through the door, me close behind him and holding onto the bottom of his shirt. Following him the way a baby duck paddles after the mother duck, I hadn't let him out of my sight all day. "Why can't you ever return looking like you did when you left the house?" I tilt myself up on to the tips of my toes and peer at her over Eren's tense shoulders.

She's always a sight worth seeing when she's preparing to visit her husband, Dr Grisha Jaeger, on these nights. They didn't get to spend as much time together as she wanted to, with his demanding shifts at the hospital and her even more demanding job as a mother to Eren, in-between down time was a rarity, a luxury, for the pair.

They'd picked a day of each month that they would spend the evening together, doing whatever gross things adults do together when they're alone and away from the watching eyes of the rest of the world. I wrinkle my nose at the thought; I'm just about old enough to understand that there was more to relationships than just gaze dreamily into each other's eyes, holding hands and 'snuggling'.

I'm not disappointed this time around either. Living on a farm all my life, I'd never seen a women really dressed up before; time together spent on a farm were always accompanied by Wellington boots and a lot of hay. I can't recall a time when my mother and father had gotten away from the farm. After a day spent working you didn't really ever have the time or energy to do anything else.

I had certainly never seen my mother wearing a little black dress, one that ended at least two inches above the knee but made up in the length department by reaching all the way to her wrists and then teaming the number up with bright red shoes to match her nail varnish and handbag.

Her face looks like Eren's, even when she was wearing make-up over the top of it. Even with the thickly coated eyelashes and the line of black outlining her big, dark chocolate eyes. Even with the skin coloured liquid she painted her face with, making it look even and hiding the extremely light freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose; freckles so light that you couldn't really see them, unless you were an inch away from her face.

She looked like Eren

Even more so now with a scowl sketched upon her face, surveying his clothes and face. She meets my watching gaze and I meet hers, raising my hand up in a gesture of greeting.

"Mikasa can do it and I'm sure she didn't just stand and watch with the innocent party," I drop my hand, shuffling my feet. Eren was in trouble, so I'm in trouble, too. She turns back to assessing the damage that Eren has obtained, taking in his grass stained knees, the swollen and split lip, and the grazed cheek right down to the missing shoe. "Why are you always fighting?"

I shrink back behind Eren, waiting for him to answer, shout, back at her. To be honest, I wasn't sure why he'd been fighting this time. I had been wondering after him a bit slower than usual, distracted by the birds flying overhead, when Eren had swung his foot straight into the shin of a boy with bright orange hair, chubby cheeks and gappy teeth. It had escalated, or maybe descended, into a full blown fight by the time I'd ran over and had dragged the boy off and away from Eren. Maybe that had rallied Eren on because he'd been up as fast as a shot and landing a blow to the boy's groin in the time it took me to blink.

It had been a chore to finally wriggle between the two and haul Eren away.

He wasn't exactly smart with his fists, the boy wonder which was Eren Jaeger.

"He said something about Mikasa," he replies angrily making my insides wince away from him. I don't have to force the stillness that comes over me as I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

It had been my fault Eren had gotten hurt today and it didn't matter how much he denied it, I had seen how each step home had made him grimace in discomfort and pain. He'd had this fight before, maybe not with the same boy but he wouldn't have been the first to make a comment about me and ended up with Eren blackening his eyes with his own form of eye shadow. We stand in silence until Eren pipes up, his voice lower and more forceful, "I only gave him what he deserved."

"Eren-"Kalura's voice matches his in strength and she's pulled herself up straight, her scowl deepening itself in her face. She's about to enter lecture mode, but Eren beats her, slamming a fist into the door frame. I'd seen people back away from him when he'd done this before, but I don't move. I know he'd rather protect someone then hurt someone, and he'd never hurt me.

"He was wrong. I was right." He's working himself up again, something he was very good at. He was in fact a professional at it and would be competing in the sport at the next Olympics. He's the favourite for Gold.

If you need to know only one thing about Eren it's that Eren has a very strong idea of what is right and what is wrong; ideas that couldn't be shook, let alone moved and changed, for the world. Protecting his friends; right

Being racially offensive to someone; wrong, wrong, wrong

Very wrong

It's that simple for Eren.

'I was right' he'd said, there was no chance of winning an argument with him once he'd said those words. I'd heard them before and I'll hear them again, no doubt about it.

Kalura isn't having any of it. She glances at the time and she lets out a strangled sound of frustration and throws her hands into the air. To make it worse, we're late home, too

"Sit down," She nods towards the sofa; Eren doesn't make a move. "Eren! Sit. Down. Now" She places emphasis on each word through gritted teeth.

"You're going to tell me I was wrong. That I should stop getting into fights, aren't you?" He bursts forward, throwing his hands up in a mimic of the gesture Kalura had just done. It's almost alarming how much they look alike; you could barely see any of Dr Jaeger in him, and I'm not just talking about the looks department.

Dr Jaeger is distant; literally as well as figuratively. When he is here, which was getting even less and less, he's introverted (a word Armin had taught me the last time I'd seen him and am trying to use every time the opportunity arises) and always calm. He's the cold water to Eren and Kalura's blazing fire. Eren and Karla are fiery and passionate and not about to back down this time. "Those idiots were the ones who started it!"

"And I bet Mikasa was the once who finished it, huh?" He's still facing away from me, but I can imagine his face now. He, in my mind, is frowning, as always, but is dropping his gaze away from his mother's fierce one. "Don't look away from me!" Its bad manners, say Kalura, to look away from someone when they're speaking to you.

Beads of sweat cling to his neck and I can imagine that they're clutching to his forehead too. "You can't keep rushing fist first into these situations, Eren."

"But-"

"No! I'm talking, not you," he wants to be. Eren's… what's Eren like? He's like a….a…. Dragon! Eren's like a Dragon who NEEDS to breathe out his fire or it'll set its insides alight and burn himself up. Eren's a dragon and he uses his words like fire.

Kalura doesn't believe in dragons. "It doesn't matter how spiteful, how mean or how hateful people can be, sometimes you have to learn that walking away is the safer option."

Eren waits

Five whole seconds, and when he does talk I think that he'll ask her something like "can I talk now?" with his usual swagger and attitude, or that he might just shrug in response before sulking off to watch that weird show he loves so dearly; the one where humanity is caged up like animal stock and these giant naked creeps want to make lunch out of them. The few times I'd watched it, I'd thought it was a bit messed up; even for Eren's standards.

He does neither, to my surprise.

"I wanted to protect Mikasa," he screams back at her, his voice snapping at the end. Five whole seconds, he'd waited. Five whole seconds to pull all this anger up to the surface and let his words and thoughts be bathed in it. Five seconds, that's all it took. "We're supposed to protect FAMILY!" His shouting penetrates the tidiness of my mind

Family

He'd never said I was family before.

He thought I was family?

We're a family?

I have a new family?

I hadn't wanted to hope for so much, but Eren was here and he was calling me his family.

I pull the red scarf, which had previously belonged to Eren, tighter around the bottom of my face, covering my mouth and nose, and inhale deeply.

It smells like wet grass on a sunny day, freshly sliced apples and faintly of sweat. It smells like Eren, and I hope it always does, because that means it smells like my new home?

It smells like a new family?

One that Eren has given to me.

"You getting into trouble and Mikasa having to save you aren't protecting this family," _this family_, she says. "That's you creating a problem for this family." She said it again.

Kalura is winding down and is now busying her hands by twisting her long hair into a neat and tidy knot at the nape of her neck. Eren doesn't answer this time and after looking back to shoot me a wide-eyed eye roll, bounds up the stars, slamming this door shut when he reaches his bedroom.

We can still hear him yelling to himself about how unfair everything is and how he was definitely right. How he's always right.

"Boys," Kalura sighs to herself, shaking her head and pulling a deep red coat on over her dress. I don't know what she means by that. Is she saying all boys are the same? Because I'd never met someone like Eren, so that wouldn't make any sense.

I've never met anyone like Armin before either, so that _really_ wouldn't make any sense. "If he wants to protect you he has a funny way of going about it."

I frown a little bit at her because "I don't need Eren to protect me." She smiles slightly at me with her lips pressed tightly together and with a small frown of her own she beckons me over to her, her expression softening when I leave my place by the front door and make my way over to her. She settles down within the plump, plum coloured cushions of the sofa and takes both my hands when I reach her. They're so warm, like she's been holding hot pebbles in her hands all day.

Just like Eren.

Dr Grisha has cold hands.

"I know, but Eren… he wants to be a man and he thinks it's a man's job to protect women." I'm not too sure about that; I think Eren just wants to protect anyone who can't protect themselves. "But you're a strong girl, Mikasa; remember you don't need anyone to protect you. You don't need anyone to lead you either, not even Eren." I nod at her like I understand what she means; I think I do. "Mikasa… what do you want?" She asks me like she just wants to know what I want for Christmas or for my birthday, but I know the question carries more weight than that.

What do I want?

That was easy to answer, "I want to be with you guys. I want to look after Eren."

"Why?" she fires back at me.

That was easy to answer, too. Eren was always teaching me something new and this was one of them; "We're supposed to protect family."

I should've known it all along; but Eren had been the one to open my eyes. I learnt from my own experiences that cruelty was something on which you could count on in the world; if doesn't matter if you ignore it, it won't go away.

It's like if you close your eye on a sunny day because the light is too bright, just because you can't see the light anymore, it doesn't mean the sun has stopped shinning. It just appears that way to you. That's what I have believed; that if I close my eyes the bad stuff stopped. I was wrong and my family had shown that to me.

And then the Jaeger family has shown me the beautiful in the world.

Kalura looks strangely over-satisfied when she smiles widely at me. "Eren can be a very reckless boy, Mikasa, so when he gets himself in to trouble; help him out. He wants to protect you, but sometimes _he_ needs to be protected and he doesn't see that. Do you see that?" I nod at her. Kalura squeezes my hand and in a way I don't see the difference between what Eren did and what's she asking of me, but I promise her. I promise her that I'll always look out for Eren because that's what family do. I promise her because I already made that promise to myself, but saying it loud to her makes it feel more solid at last. "That's my girl."

She leaves ten minutes later, telling me Hannes, our babysitter and the closest thing Eren has to an uncle, is running a little late today, but he'd be here soon. She kisses my forehead, leaving a lipstick stain there, and tells me not to open the door to anyone unless it's Hannes.

She leaves me with the memory of her smile and a happiness which courses through my veins like lava, making me feel warm and loved all over.

I have a new family, I think, as Kalura slams the door shut on me.

We don't have a radio anymore; after the trial Eren had been so angry had taken a hammer to it. Seven minutes he'd stood there smashing the thing into smithereens. It was unrecognisable by the time he'd finished with it.

We don't have a television either. The day after the accident Eren had thrown a, thankfully empty, vase at it and had shattered the glass in the middle. He'd even thrown his own through an upstairs window the day we moved out.

We don't have Dr Grisha anymore. He refuses to come back to visit, dedicating all his time to the hospital and telling Hannes that he's even too busy to take five minutes to talk to Eren on the phone. He's left us in the care of Hannes and his Uncle Pixis, but we don't get to see Pixis much because he's busy with the string of bars he owns across the district and the surrounding areas.

We don't even have Hannes anymore, not really.

He's changed since the accident. I don't see his carefree smile anymore and when he thinks I'm not looking I can see how heavy his blame is on him. I see how it sinks his shoulders and lowers his head and tugs down the corners of his forced smiles. He's aged since it happened too, like he gained ten years over night. The laughter lines that used to frame his eyes, I now see them as wrinkles. The lighter strand of his blonde hair look like they're greying already and without his smile it looks like his skin, his whole being, is sagging. But he tries his hardest to hide it from us and one day I can only hope I can thank him for that one small thing.

We don't live in Eren's childhood house anymore, although it still belongs to Dr Grisha. We live with Hannes.

We don't have a family anymore. All we have is the broken remains that Kalura left when she died.

Armin and I are sat outside Eren's room. He's locked the door on the world, but we've still been waiting for the last hour, hoping to coax him out. Hannes had called us down for dinner, even going to the trouble of make Armin some even though he'd insisted he'd be fine, but Eren hadn't come. Again.

Armin had been visiting every single day since that day, each time accompanied with a different travel magazine with him, hoping to lure Eren out of his current stare. So far he'd only been able to see me.

I like thinking back to the day I'd met Armin. When Eren had told me that he wanted to introduce me to a friend of his, I had expected someone more like Eren, but instead I'd been greeted my Armin.; petite with a round face, blonde hair, round blue-eyes and a somewhat pudgy nose. Unlike Eren, Armin is timid and frail and constantly being tormented by the other boys for it. From a distance, I'd thought he might have been a girl, but as we neared and Eren had kicked away the boy who had been picking on him that day, I had learned otherwise.

That day he'd been reading a book about mountains and after Eren had introduced me and Armin had nodded with knowing eyes, he launched into an hour long talk about them. He told me about how Mountains make up one-fifth of the world's landscape and that the tallest mountain known to us in the solar system is one called Olympus Mons which is located on Mars. He'd even told me about a mountain in Japan called Mount Wakakusa, which is also known as Mount Mikasa. When he told me about all the things he'd learnt his eyes lit up and his smile grew and he drew you in, and that's what I liked about him. That he made everything sound new, fantastic and interesting. He told me how much he'd love to climb a mountain and he made me want to climb one, too.

My next meeting with him, he'd been nose deep inside a book about the ocean, but as soon as he'd seen us he'd placed it down beside him and told me all about the different fish that lived in the sea. He told me that the sea had collected more artefacts and remnants of history than all of the world's museums had combined. He'd said that one day he'd explore the depths of the sea with Eren and I, and we'd discover history together.

The third time Eren had taken me to see him, he'd brought a map with him and I'd spent the afternoon watching Eren and him dot out all the placed they wanted to visit in the future. Armin had finally looked up at me with a smile and gave me a pen to dot somewhere I wanted to go. I had shaken my head. Wherever they went, I'd happily follow them; as long as I was with them both, I would be content.

One thing to know about Armin Arlert? He was always thirsty for knowledge. He wanted to explore the world. He wanted to see it all. He wanted more than the walls he'd been born into; the walls of this dirty town. He was just like Eren in that aspect.

Armin made me want to explore it all too.

"Armin," he's flicking through the pages of his magazine, silently, probably wondering, like I am, what it'll take to help Eren. Armin's smart, smarter than Eren and I combined, if anyone can reach Eren right now, it's Armin. After all they're best friends. He stops instantly, looking up at me with those worried eyes; eyes that know more than they give away. "Who gave you that?"

I lean towards him and trace my fingertips lightly over the bruise I've spotted peeking out from beneath his collar. He flinches.

Armin was constantly covered in bruises and cuts, and since I'd met him there had been times when these things came with a cracked or broken bone. Sometimes he'd tell us, almost reluctantly, quietly about how he'd gotten them and then there were other times when he'd swiftly change the subject and try to make us forget about it.

Like now.

"When was the last time you saw Eren?" Did I want to talk about Eren while Armin was in obvious pain? No. I wanted Armin to tell me the name of the scumbag who'd thought it was okay to lay a hand on my friend. Armin didn't deserve that, but I knew better than to try and force the answer out of him, so I let him steer the conversation away from his problems and onto Eren's.

"I haven't seen him since we moved in," I say. That was two and a half weeks ago. I pull my knees up so I can rest my chin against them and watch the crack at the bottom of the door. There's no movement from within. Coldness settles over my insides and I squeeze my arms tightly around me, "He hasn't spoken to me since then, either."

From the corner of my eye I see Armin's eyebrows raise in surprise and how he glances back at the door with a grim expression. He leans back against the wall besides me, letting his magazine drop from his grasp and pulling his knees up to mimic me.

He reaches over and squeezes my forearm, "It'll be okay, Mikasa." He must know I want to ask him how he could possibly know that because he squeezes my arm again and when I turn my head to rest my cheek against my knees instead and watch him, he smiles gently before saying, "You survived it. So will Eren."

I want to tell him I only survived because Eren helped me, but the words lodge themselves inside my throat and I'm left just staring at him.

"When was the last time he ate?" Armin and I had brought up a tray after we'd eaten. Hannes had insisted we ate before we took a tray with Eren's food up to him. Hannes had gone from living with next to no responsibilities to being a housewife in the space of three weeks, and as I watched him watch Armin gobble down his food today I noticed it for the first time. Hannes was like a mum sometimes, I'd thought as he told Armin he should be eating more and had looked at him like his body was so weak it'd snap if you knocked him too hard. I knew Armin was stronger than that.

Armin nudged the tray with the tip of his shoe. I try to count back in my head and I let out a sigh when I answer him, "I'm not sure."

Armin jumps up and knocks the door. "Eren let me in." No one answers and the door stays locked. "Eren, you need to eat." Armin sounds desperate. It won't work. Hannes and I had tried many times before, and we always went to bed with no success.

You survived it. So will Eren.

Armin is pleading with Eren to open the door and eat something. He keeps telling him that Eren doesn't have to talk to us, he doesn't need to do anything, but he needs to eat. One small step, right? That's what Armin is aiming for, I guess.

You survived it. So will Eren.

Armin tells Eren that he needs to eat something or he'll starve, he says that a boy can't live on oxygen alone. Armin's words lose all meaning as I listen to him and they become no more than sounds. Is this was Eren is hearing, too?

You survived it. So will Eren.

I'm surviving because of Eren and because of Armin. I'm surviving because Eren told me to fight. Why isn't Eren fighting? Has he forgotten how to fight?

"Perhaps I should remind him," I whisper out, finishing my thoughts out loud. I push up and pull Armin away from the door by his sleeve. Armin fights against it, digging in his heels and yanking on the door knob. "Armin."

You survived it. So will Eren.

"Armin, Eren will survive." Armin stops struggling and stills all over, "I'll make him."

Armin lets go and nods at me, walking a little further down the landing. I try the door handle, hoping that he's woken up and will willingly let me now. It's still locked. "Eren. Open the door." I lean my ear to the door and listen for movement; there's no sound.

Eren taught me to be strong, so now I need to help him. _'He wants to protect you, but sometimes he needs to be protected and he doesn't see that.' _Sorry, Kalura, I haven't helped him. I haven't protected him, but I'll do it now. Just because you're not here doesn't mean we're any less of a family.

"Mikasa….?" Armin's voice trails off as I lift my foot behind me and I see realisation hit him as I swing my foot as hard as I can into the door, just below the door handle. The wood splinters after a few kicks and I push my hand through the hole and reach up and turn the lock. The door clicks and, once I've removed my hand, swings open.

Eren is sat on his bed, he doesn't even move when I enter his room. Tears stream down his face and his head is bent over, he looks completely hopeless. Is this how I looked? His boxes are all tipped over, his stuff spilling out and littering the floor. A small shaft of light filters through the gap in the curtains and hits him, but that's all the light the room has. "Mikasa?" Armin voice comes up again, concerned about what I'm going to do next, as I make my way over to Eren. "Mikasa, what are you-?!"

The sound of my fist connecting with Eren's nose cuts him off. That earns me a reaction. "Mikasa!" The skin across my knuckle is broken, like his nose, but that doesn't stop me. I reach behind him and pull his head back by his hair and wave over to Armin to bring the tray of food over. He comes quickly to my aid. I take a piece of apple from the tray and put the tip of it against Eren's lips.

"Eat!" I order him, jabbing the food against his bottom lip to force it open. He glares up at met and opens his mouth to fire an insult at me, but I slot the food in and cover his whole mouth with my hand so he can't spit it out. "Eat!" I say again, this time forcing myself to ask it quietly. I hear movement behind us and I glance towards the doorway to find Hannes staring at me.

Eren starts shouting against my hand and even though it's muffled I understand perfectly what he's saying. He's accusing me of not caring, telling me that if I understood I would leave him alone, that everyone needs to leave him alone.

I understand him perfectly.

I understand that right now he's forgotten that out of everyone in this house I'm the one that understands exactly how he's feeling.

I understand how much it hurts, how cold you feel and how bleak everything looks.

I understand him so well that I know he needs to hear the words he'd once told me.

"Fight! Are you listening to me, Eren?" His eyes widen and he stops talking, "Fight! If you don't fight, what's the point? You're not living, if you're not fighting! Didn't you say that to me, Eren?! Didn't you?!"

Armin is the one who knows what to say, he's the one who knows how to use words to his advantage; he can use words the way Eren can use his fist. I don't. I keep my mouth zipped up and let him do the talking, except now. What would Armin say? What would he say right now?

Eren nods, tears slowly leaking from his eyes and sliding over my knuckles. He's gone completely silent, he's holding his breath. "Eren, the world is merciless, but you've taught me… you taught me that to make it beautiful you have to fight."

He starts trembling, starting from a slight movement of his bottom lip until it works through his whole body and shakes the rest of him. His words had the opposite effect on me; they'd stilled me to the core and had kept me steady. What more can I say?

Armin lays a hand on my shoulder and his other around Eren's wrist, and I know. I know what Armin would say because he finally says it; "Eren, fight with me. With me, Mikasa and Hannes. Fight with the rest of the world to make it beautiful."


	3. Chapter 3

"**Jean!" Hands bumped and shook him, and the sounds of the hospital assaulted him from every angle, pounding on his ear drums so violently if he could think he might think it possible for them to shatter. None of it broke through the bubble of calm he'd cloaked himself with. Hands were twisting in his hair, his hands, and the salt in his tears were burning his eyes, wanting desperately to escape and run away but he wouldn't let them. Unbelievably he felt calm. Calmer then he thought he could be.**

**Mikasa would make it through this; he'd bet his oxygen on it, along with every meal he'd ever have on her. She had to make it through this. She would, that's all that he could keep telling himself. "Mr Kirstein." **

**A pair of blond eyebrows hovering over a pair of tired looking eyes pop up into his vision, showing a mix of anger and concern in the depths of his blue eyes, making them look like an ocean in the middle of a storm. Until then the hospital had been nothing but a blue of colours streaming into each other like too vibrant water colours and a constant stream of voices that merged into nothing but one long pure note, now everything sharpened into startling clarity when faced with his headmaster, Erwin Smith.**

"**Are you with me, Jean? The nurse told me what happened," That was one blessing for Jean; a blessing that shouldn't have been granted in the first place. He didn't want to explain why she wasn't waking up. He didn't want to try wrapping his mind around the idea that she might not ever wake up. "But there's more I need to know, like why you were off of school grounds in the first place. Mikasa can't tell me what happened, only you ca-"**

"**MIKASA!" The broken voice slashed through every fibre of Jean's body and made him forgot Erwin's calm one, it hammered against his skull and cut deep through his calm, jabbing at him like a freshly sharpened knife. Eren was a flash of black and white and blue-green eyes; his face was scrunched up with ugly fat tears and snot trickling from him. A nurse coming out from Mikasa's room comes up short as he barges into Eren who tries to navigate his way around the guy. He holds his hands up like a crossing guard, blocking his entrance. "NO!" He screams into his face; spit flying from his lips and his whole body shaking like it's not big, or strong, enough for his emotions. "I HAVE TO SEE HER." His voice cracks open at the end and he lets out a strangled cry. **

"**Sir, please, you can't go in there," To the nurse's credit, who was a good head shorter than him, didn't flinch away from Eren like the rest of the world would've. He just stands there looking bored, like he had seen his scene so many times before that he had grown hardened to the cries of a patient's family. He remains professional, but gives Eren a little push back away from him. Jean could tell he didn't need someone like Eren in his face. **

**Armin's face appears over Eren's left shoulder, the pain plastering his face a start contrast to Eren's. His tears spilled out slowly and his lips quivered while his teeth tore at them, with the effort of trying to keep it from all pouring out and painting itself upon everything and everyone around him. He was a silent crier, someone who didn't make a sound unless it was forced out of them. He was the type of person who cries into their pillow in the dead of the night so his agony didn't touch another's soul. Jean felt his own tears building up again and threatening to spill out, too. **

**Eren's cries were angry, like he blamed the whole world for how he was feeling on the inside. He shuck not only his own, but the ribs of other people when he cried, rattling their hearts and drawing sharp, pained breaths from their lungs. It was the kind you couldn't hide from the world, but the world wished it couldn't see. Jean really didn't want to see it. **

"**Mr Jaeger," Erwin straightens up, his attention travelling from a still Jean to a shaking Eren, not seeing when Jean unsteadily gets to his feet. Erwin and the nurse combined their efforts, too busy trying to calm Eren down that they don't notice when Jean staggers over to them with short angry bursts of air leaving his mouth. None of them notice him at all until Jean is slamming his fist into Eren's jaw and is pulling back to ready do it again. The next punch lands in the space under his rib.**

**Jean could never get used to this sight; his hands, with blackened fingertips from years of charcoal work, more commonly used so many times in the process of creation, now destroying something. Put simply, he'd been so busy producing drawings and art pieces all his life that smacking Eren felt like the most bizarre thing in the whole universe.**

**But, at the same time, the most natural thing in the whole wide world. It was like every single argument, all the small, unimportant disagreements, had been leading up to this moment. Every ounce of anger he'd felt towards Eren Jaeger was meeting its release, and it felt damn good. **

**He landed two further punches to Eren before everyone snapped back into action, remembering that they couldn't stand by as Jean let all his pent up anger loose on Eren and pushing through the shock they had been feeling. Shock in answer to the stillness that had settled over Eren; he let the hits rain down on him from once in his life, not raising a hand, not even once, in defence. It didn't even register when Jean how out of character it was for him.**

"**YOU DID THIS, EREN!" Jean was pushing against Erwin, who had wriggled between them and was blocking any further hits that Jean aimed at Eren from making contact; even taking one across his back for him. He was trying to speak to him over his shoulder again, his tone one that you might use on a child who stood on a piece of plug and thought it was the worst thing in the world; it was slow and calming, like he was trying to penetrate Jean's anger with his words. Jean didn't hear the words, just the sounds, not even hearing that once his voice explode out of him again. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, JAEGER. MIKASA WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN IN THAT STATE IF YOU-" His words tumbled from him like rocks over a waterfall and he winced at the raw edge they'd taken. He didn't want to cry, he wouldn't cry but at the same time he felt it creeping up on him. "EVEN MIKASA WILL STOP GIVING YOU CHANCES ONE DAY." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure he could believe it. **

"**SHUT UP, YOU ASSHOLE. WHAT IF SHE CAN'T GET ME ANOTHER CHANCE?" Eren finally comes back to life, surprising Armin so much he jumps away from him without meaning to. "WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T WAKE UP?"**

**Jean wanted to tell Eren that he was being stupid, that of course Mikasa would wake up, she was stronger than he was giving her credit for, but at that moment a pair of hands came around Jean, this time under his arms and locking around his chest, they pulled and heaved Jean away, but they didn't stop the next words from dropping like bombs from his mouth. "DID YOU EVEN REALISE HOW LUCKY YOU ARE? THAT I WOULD'VE DONE ANYTHING TO BE IN YOUR POSITION? I WAS SO JEALOUS. DID YOU EVEN KNOW?" Such unimportant questions, Jean knew, but he wanted them answered because "She could die, Jaeger," his voice cracked and he swallowed back the lump forming in his throat, feeling it like a razor blade, "because you didn't tell her. WHY-WHY DIDN'T YOU COME AFTER HER? I DID. DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT HER AS MUCH AS SHE CARES ABOUT YOU?" **

**For Jean it was silent. He could have heard a pin drop even when it got mixed up in the tidal wave of urgent voices, sliding doors and diagnoses. So he certainly heard, as he was pulled around the corner to reception by those hands, Eren whisper, dejectedly, back at him; "Of course I did." **

**He certainly saw those eyes full up with more tears and his clenched up fist impale itself in the wall by him before Jean was dragged from proximity and left wondering what question he was answering. **

"What're you drawing?" A freckled hand lands on my shoulder, jolting my arm and, unfortunately, the pencil in my hand. The thick, deep line cuts through the figure in the middle of the page, slicing the face in two, making it look jiggered and grotesque. It had been my best attempt yet and this time I had been sure I'd been an inch closer to capturing my muse's beauty. I suck in a frustrated sigh and look up and look up at a smirking Marco. A smirk on Marco was like seeing Professor Hanji without glasses and a biology book at hand; not right. Actually it was closer to seeing Annie Leonhart with a big smile plastered across her face; just plain wrong. "Or is it w_ho're _you drawing?"

Marco's smirk splits into a full-bodied smile, drawing my attention automatically to the right side of his face. Like my drawing it was twisted and unattractive, unlike my drawing it could not be fixed with a magic wave of my rubber. The scars that sketched themselves down his face would make him forever, but they did nothing to dim the light and warmth that he radiated, even if it did get him down sometimes. He'd had them almost his whole life; Marco had told me that when he about five years old, his mother had left a hot cup of tea on the dining room table and Marco being curious as to what it was reached up to grab it, tipping it as he brought it down. He said that he still had nightmares about it. "Shouldn't you be saving that for next class?" Light and warmth be damned, Marco still knew how to be an asshole. I shrug and scrunch the piece of paper into a ball.

"I have a better view here."

Marco looks over at me, his face amused and confused at once, "Yeah. The back of her head is looking real fine today."

"Better than the one in art," I reply, lowering my voice with the rest of our class as our teacher 'Nick-call-me-Nick-please-kids' stalks, miserably into the room.

"She's not in art…" Marco's voice trails off, question marks littering his speech, as Nick settle down at his desk. I shoot Marco an 'exactly, my point' look until the light flares in his eyes, signalling that he understands. Nick clears his throat, pulling the class's attention to the front. He's been a R.E teacher for the past twenty five years and doesn't need to put much effort into earning our silence. He looked like the sort of man who wouldn't think twice about introducing your knuckles to a meter stick; whether it is legal or not.

Marco nudges my elbow with his and slides a piece of folded up paper over to me. I stare at it blankly for a moment and then back at him, an eyebrow raised.

He pushes it further at me.

_Not passing? Really, Marco?_ I open the paper under the table and risk a glance at Nick to see if he's caught Marco in the act. Or, worse, me.

_View of her what? ;)_

I roll my eyes at the note. I knew what Marco was hinting at but he was wrong. I scribble a message back. _Not her ass, you moron. _

He writes back so fast I wonder if maybe he'd been practising back in his dorm room for his. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. _Really? Because you talk about her ass a lot_

_Really_

_If it's not that then what? You can't see her chest from here_

_Mikasa's more than her ass and her chest, dumbass. _Marco raises his eyebrows at her, but doesn't write back, just pushes it back and jabs a finger at his last message. _Her hair_

_Her hair?_

_It's beautiful, Marco_

_Is this an artist thing?_

That is how it goes before Nick clears his throat, making us both jump when we find him stood right next to our table in the middle row. He smiles down at us the way Hannibal smiles at his next meal. "Having fun, are we?"

"Is he kidding? This is religious studies?" Reiner Braun whispers from the back of the room, disbelief lacing his words. At least he tries to whisper; we'd learnt that Reiner's whispering was like everyone else speaking at their normal speaking volume. Nick's cheeks redden and he doesn't even need to speak, for the whole class to know Reiner just got himself a lunch time detention.

"Mr Kirstein, would you like to tell us what you're having so much fun playing with under the table?" From the corner of my eye I see Marco slip down in his seat, while Reiner lets out a deep short laugh which he tries to quickly cover up with a few staged coughs. A few others giggle as quietly as they can manage, but the majority of the class are holding their breaths.

_Shit_

_Think Jean_

"Not my paintbrush, sir," I joke weakly, earing another laugh and cover with a cough thing from Reiner. This one is cut even shorter when it earns him a glare from good ol' Nick, one that he transfers over to me.

"Then what, Mr Kirstein?" I can feel the sweat forming on the nape of my neck as holds an expecting hand out to me; "Give it to me?" I sigh and, defeated, toss the note into his hand. He rolls it open and I know it, he's going to read it out to the class and I'm going to either die of embarrassment or I'm going to have to pack up all my stuff at lunch and skip country to avoid ever being in breathing distance of Mikasa ever again. The bastard. But instead he reads it to himself, a nasty sneer crawling across his face until he lets out a cackle. He actually cackles at me.

"Ms Ackerman," He walks the few steps it takes to reach her desk in front and he wakes a great show of spreading the paper across her table and tapping it, even looking up at me with a look that spells 'this is what you get, Mr Kirstein', "Read this?"

She leans forward and away from me, her hair sweeping over her shoulders and baring the slope of her neck to me. My fingers tingle with the need to draw the sight and it overcomes me so quickly that I temporarily forget about what is about to happen. "Out loud, sir?"

"No, Ms Ackerman, in your head will work just fine," He looks over at me as she reads; his look of triumph growing at the same speed that my cheeks redden at. I can almost hear the thoughts of my other classmates, begging to know what the note contains; the traitors.

Finally, she sits back. "Finished, Sir."

"And?" The bastard's enjoying this way too much.

She throws me a look over her shoulder, her cool grey eyes roaming over my face. "Thanks." Her lips turning up a fraction in the corners, it's so small a change that I barely notice it. Please, someone tell me that I'm not actually blushing even harder now. Marco elbows me, and

I can only assume that means I'm the colour of a tomato under her gaze. She quickly turns away from me and back to the facing the front of the class. "Wait-what?" Nick asks, dumbfounded which only gets a shrug from Mikasa in response to him.

When she vocalises her response, she speaks in a deadpan voice and in the silence after I could almost feel the people laughing at Nick's, and mine, embarrassed face, "Well, I do have a great ass."

That was the first time she ever spoke to me.

**The cold air kisses Jean's cheeks like flirty ice fairies who longed for a human's touch and chills the fiery hate he'd felt rushing through him moments ago. He'd thought it cold earlier, but, now with his fingers already feeling slightly numb, he was glad it wasn't like this when he and Mikasa had been waiting for the ambulance. **

**The hands released him and left him stumbling around trying to regain a footing as he almost feel down the steps leading up to the hospital. He glanced up, his eyes widening and his cheeks growing warm as it hit him that he'd just been dragged out by someone who was the perfect height to serve as an armrest for most the population; the nurse from earlier. **

"**Calm it, brat," his voice is low and warning, telling Jean that if he tries to push past back inside he'd be meeting a less friendly reception than the one Eren had met. The nurse has black, straight hair; styled into an undercut, with grey sharp eyes. He screamed intimidation despite his height and Jean could safely say that if he saw him strolling through the city, he wouldn't peg him down as the nursing type. "Want one, kid?" The nurse pulls a pocket of cigarettes and a lighter from the front pocket of his scrubs and raises an eyebrow at Jean. **

"**Are you supposed to have those when you're…?" Jean gestures generally to the hospital and almost taking him up on his offer. He wasn't a smoker, but just then he could have done with something to steady his hands.**

"**I was just about to go on my break, when your girlfriend came in," he pops a cigarette between his teeth and lights up, the flame from his lighter illuminating his face and drawing Jeans attention to the purple that ringed his eyes like eye shadow. If Jean was being honest, he couldn't help but think the nurse looked a little like a corpse warmed up. Jean's brain catches up with what the nurse says and shaking his head at him, the action looking sadder than Jean would have intended. **

"**She's not my girlfriend," he answers, almost bitterly, burying his hands deeply in his jean pockets and hoping from one freezing foot to the other. "She's just a-" what were they? Friends? Yes, they sometimes hung around in the same friendship group and sometimes they exchange words, but were they actually friends? "We're just friends." He finishes weakly, wishing all at once that were true but wanting for it to be more than 'just friends' as well.**

"**Right," The nurse nods like he understands something Jean doesn't, but, impressively enough, still managing to sound bored and look like he wanted to be anywhere as long as it wasn't here. "The one back there, with more bellicose than he has brains, that's her boyfriend?" He blows a hoop of smoke out into the air and watches it widen; only taking another long drag of his cigarette when it had dispersed. **

**A few hours ago, Jean might have agreed with the assumption, or might have made some remark about her wishing, but now he doesn't speak so quickly; just turns the events of the night over and over in his head until it is unravelling like silk around him and tightening until he's suffocating in his own thoughts. He shakes his head at the nurse, not looking over at him to see if he catches the movement. **

**Without giving his mind permission to do so, he's back there; back in the middle of the road, holding Mikasa in his arms and praying to every god he could remember from R.E class that he could, praying that they'd get her through this. He hated himself for it later, but even then, looking more like the dying rose than the blooming flower, she'd been beautiful. Jean didn't think back to it like it had really happened, he looked back at like it was a painting he'd seen and had committed to memory. **

**He could even paint it out in his mind, and he wish he could erase it from his mind forever, but he couldn't and he doubted he ever could. "They're not dating. He-he-he has another girlfriend." Jean wasn't sure why he hadn't ratted Eren out the moment Mr Smith had shown up, maybe in the corners of his mind there was a bird hatching a plan. Perhaps he wanted Mikasa to wake up and condemn Eren, or maybe he figured if he didn't spill Mikasa would be grateful to him when she awoke. He would think 'if' she woke, he couldn't think like that ever. **

**But maybe he just didn't know how to straighten what he'd walked in on out in his head. It was all so jumbled up in there, he wasn't sure he could explain any of it anyway. The doctors might have explained what was happening to Mikasa to Erwin, but nothing they had said made sense to Jean. "What's your name?" He breathes out, looking finally at the nurse.**

"**Call me Levi."**

"**Levi," a tear finally broke free, just one, trailing down his face like condensation does on a window. "Is she going to be okay? Because-" Jean had so much he wanted to say to her. He felt like he hadn't had a chance to even try, but even as he felt it, his mind called up so many times when he could have gotten over the blushing and spoken up to her. It hit him then. Hit him harder than Eren could ever have hit him. It wasn't about waiting for life to give you chances; it was about making chances for yourself in life. "I really need her to be okay." And even being as honest as he was, as blunt as a butter knife, it was the purest thing to ever leave his lips because he forgot about wanting his chances with her, Mikasa needed more chances and he wanted them all for her. **

"**Doctors and nurses can't work miracles, we're not fairy godmothers and godfathers," Jean forced his eyebrow not to raise because he found it near impossible to ever imagine Levi as a fairy god father, "So, if I say it's unlikely don't take think of it as rock solid. It's not the word of God, or whoever the fuck you're placing your faith in. In life you have to rely on what you can do, and it's the same when fighting for it, too. Some people give in and go," he snaps his fingers, "Just like that, while others fight for it. I could say it's unlikely but she could pull through this. We do the best we can, sometimes it's not enough, other times it is. I think whatever the last ingredient it is that makes it a success is down to the patient. Your friend's in a coma right now, she's not dead, she might wake up." **

"**Who do you place your faith in?" Jean asks after a few minutes of silent.**

"**Myself." Levi throws the cigarette down and crushes it out. "If you promise not to throw another strop, kid, you can come in." Jean nods. "Pinkie promise?" Levi replies sarcastically and leads Jean back in. **

_**Mikasa**_**, Jean thinks to himself, clenching his fists, **_**that's where I'm placing my faith. **_


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors note: sorry guys. This isn't really an update, more of a fixing because I noticed a huge typo and needed to change it towards the end. Also , I suck at going back over my work so there is probably more in here, I am very sorry and thank you thank you for reading._

**Mikasa's friends littered the hospital like chewing gum littered a high school playground. Jean was asleep taking up several seats in the waiting room, lying diagonally across them with a thin trail of drool dripping from the corner of his lip. Eren was curled up into ball at the end of the hallway, staring with blank eyes at the door that lay between him and Mikasa; despite his earlier efforts, when the Nurse Levi had told him that he could go in he couldn't bring himself to carry it out. Armin was with Mikasa. He was the only one who hadn't drifted to sleep in the night. Connie and Sasha had crept out during the night, too, and were currently sat in the hospital cafeteria, sipping crappy coffee and receiving a lecture from Erwin about being irresponsible. **

**Jean had tried to stay awake, but soon his mind shut down on him and his body gave in to how drained he was truly feeling. He hadn't slept peacefully, he'd been haunted by the night's events; over and over he'd dreamt it and it had turned into one, seemingly, never ending loop of the sound of her head hitting the ground and the image of her painted in red, still, he slept steadily.**

**Eren had slept fitfully; falling asleep reluctantly but then waking up quickly, thinking he could hear Mikasa calling for him. She never did and he knew she couldn't. Levi had eventually got him a blanket and draped it over him, as he had taken up residence in a place where the biting cold sting of the winter air could reach him, but that had woken him, too.**

**But despite this, Armin had the worst night out the three of them.**

**With the eyes of everyone else on him, he'd held it in like he always had; a skill he'd picked up as a child, but with no one around he let it, silently, pour out. By the morning his hands were covered with bite marks from when he'd bitten them in the night to keep him from crying out too loud; they might hear me, he'd thought to himself at the peak of the wave of his emotions, and they can't ever hear. **

_Be quiet, boy_

_SHUT UP _

_MEN DON'T CRY, ARMIN, ARE YOU REALLY OUR LITTLE GIRL, SON, OR SHOULD I CALL YOU DAUGHTR_

**The memory and words of his parents had replayed in his mind every time a fresh wave of agony rippled through his body. He couldn't make a sound, he couldn't let them hear, Armin told himself, as he felt it all rip apart his insides. He let the fear and misery and pain swirl together and act like a cool sharp blade upon his organs, he let the slice through him and pierce. It felt like they were carving into him the words the doctor had told him the night before. **

"**Can you hear me, Mikasa?" just after six AM Armin whispers to her, finally managing to string letters back into words again. He was met only by silence, one he knew was waiting patiently for him, but one he couldn't completely believe wouldn't be broken. It remained intact. Armin pushed his hair back from his face, revealing swollen eyes and gnawed away lips, and stares down at her. Her hands felt cold in his hands, and so light. He'd never noticed how weightless she felt, like she was made of air and snowflakes and not skin and bones.**

**He turned her hand over on the bed and ran a shaking finger along her forearm once before stopping at her wrist, feeling for her pulse. It was strong, so strong that for a moment he thought he was imagining it; no one who looked like Mikasa did now should have a pulse so strong, he thought. But it was hers; beating steadily, like the motion of fluttering butterfly wings. **

"**They say that when people are in comas they can still hear everything that's going on around you, or maybe that's just in movies," he sucks in a laboured breath before carrying on, "But, I'm going to try to believe you can, so, please hear me and wake up. Eren wouldn't ever admit that he needs someone, but he needs you. I need you, who else is going to save Eren's ass when he's trying to save mine." Armin wiped the back of his hand roughly across his eyes, bringing away a few eyelashes mixed with salty tears with it when he rests it back on the bed. He'd always needed Eren and Mikasa's help, always felt like some dead weight they had to keep saving, and sometimes he'd wished that they'd leave him. Leave him because he couldn't overcome the overwhelming feeling that he was holding him back. **

**He really didn't Mikasa to leave him now, and if Mikasa was gone so would Eren be. **

**A sob escapes his lips before he can cage it and let it feed on his unspoken words; one big ugly sob each coming violently one after another erupt from him before he can pull together some weak sense of composure. He carries on whispering to her.**

"**Remember that day," he unconsciously waits for her to answer, more tears welling up in his eyes when she doesn't, "The day you and Eren saved me." It sounds like an exaggeration even to his ears, but it's not. Someone with a bad sense of humour would laugh at Armin and ask 'which time?' if they knew how many times they'd protected him from bullies, but that didn't come close to what they'd really done for Armin Arlert. "We don't talk about it much, no, we don't talk about it at all, but every day, every single day, I want to tell you I'm thankful to you." They don't talk about it because Armin can't stand it, remembering hurts and Armin doesn't want to look weak. If he just asked he'd know that Mikasa and Eren never thought him weak, it was exactly the opposite of how they thought of him actually. They don't talk about it because Armin doesn't know how to talk about it because he was always told to be quiet, to shut up, so when Mikasa and Eren asked him to speak up the words died on his lips. He could talk for hours and hours about things he'd read on books and things he'd learnt in class, but about himself? It would be easier to get a rock to open up. "You guys looked my hell in the eyes and didn't back down, I'll always be grateful to you and I shouldn't be asking for anything else from you, but, I need this one thing; Wake up, please. Please, Mikasa, you can't leave us." **

**He was on the verge of begging, when a sleepy voice interrupts him. "What did she do for you?" Jean asks, walking over with a cup two cups of coffee in his hands, offering one to Armin. He takes it, looking down at the liquid like its demon blood. Armin couldn't say he liked the stuff, but he knew that it would give him an energy boost that tea wouldn't offer him. Jean continues around to the other side of the bed, carefully sliding into the seat stationed there and takes a sip of his drink. Armin had set the chair up for Eren, but he never came. **

"**I don't want to talk about it," he also takes a quick sip of his coffee, almost gagging on the taste. He'd thought the bitter taste of coffee was bad enough, being from a hospital didn't make it any better. Armin forces the stuff down and studies Jean over the rim of his cup. He's staring at Mikasa so intently he's surprised when laser beams don't shoot from his eyes and melt her. He stares at her like he's committing her to memory, like he's trying to imprint every inch of her onto his brain; like he wants to tattoo her face onto the inner walls of his skull. "Why were you off school grounds, Jean?" He asks, numbly, barely moving his lips. **

**Jean doesn't reply straight away, just continues to watch Mikasa. "I don't want to talk about it." **

"**Was it Eren?" Armin asks, carefully.**

"**Was what Eren?" Jean's eyes flicker, quickly, to Armin's face and then back to Mikasa, looking like he's scared he'll miss any move she might make. **

"**Mikasa wouldn't get hit by a car," Armin pushes the words out through clenched teeth.**

"**Well, she did," It sounds like it causes Jean physical pain to say it, like the words are nails being dragged through his throat as they rise up and out from his mouth. Armin winces because Jean's tone sounds like everything he is feeling, yet at the same time doesn't cover even a small slice of how he's feeling.**

"**Have you ever seen Mikasa play dodge ball?" Jean shakes his head without looking always from her. "She's never gets hit by the ball, never. She doesn't accidently walk into things. If something is thrown towards her, she's moved before the object is halfway to her and you're expecting me to believe that **_**that**_** Mikasa could get hit by a car?" Jean's silent, "Tell me what happened because one of my best friends, no, my sister is in a coma and my best friend, he's-" Armin can't describe how Eren is. Eren seeks justice always, yet he's not even asked about the person who hit her. "Last night, you said it was Eren's fault. I need to know to what you meant."**

**Jean is finally looking at him, but Armin almost wants to flinch away from his gaze. His eyes are like Eren's, not the colour or even the shape, but the look that they hold within them. They're intense, soaking up everything around them and both have something vicious lying in wait behind them. **

"**Tell me how she saved you and then I'll tell you." Armin falls into a stunned silence; he'd never thought Jean would sink as low to get information like that. "You let all build up inside you, huh? Maybe if you let some of it out, it wouldn't feel so heavy." So he'd heard him after all, despite Armin's efforts. That's what Armin thought, but he hadn't glanced in the mirror and he was subconsciously rubbing his fingers over his wounded hand, drawing Jean's attention to it. **

**Armin's brows sink into a frown, one both troubled and confused. "For a guy who gets caught writing notes about a girl's-"**

**Jean lets out a strangled sound of frustration, "That was one time." One time his classmates were never, ever going to let him live down; even people who hadn't been in the classroom at the time had found out about and teased him relentlessly over it. Armin continued to speak like Jean hadn't said anything, but offered a small smile to show him his comment hadn't gone ignored.**

"**You come out with some pretty wise things." Jean nods like it's something he'd been told before; he had by Marco before he'd moved schools at the beginning of the year. Armin glances towards Mikasa, unable to hope that maybe she'd woken up in the few minutes he'd not been watching her; of course, his hope was wasted. "Why do you really want to know, Jean?" He asks wearily. **

"**Because we're friends, aren't we?" **

**Armin feels himself jolt at the question and the hurt tone Jean had posed it in. It sometimes catches him off guard; the idea that he had more friends outside of Eren and Mikasa. Jean, who he'd often ended up partnered up with in Literature, had definitely become one of them. Reiner and Bertolt, who were always coming out on top during P.E, never failed to take him under their wing to help him out in class when he was falling behind, and even coming to his aid when he needed it, while Eren and Mikasa had been put in detention for fighting, ironically enough. Annie, Sasha, Connie, Historia and Ymir (along with Mikasa and Eren, obviously); the people who he ended up sitting with at lunch when he didn't feel like hanging around the science block. They were all his friends, but only two of them knew his secret. "We're friends and I want to know."**

**Armin nods, weakly, at him. He couldn't get his thoughts to settle into place, but one thought rang out loud and clear above all the others; maybe if he said it, Mikasa, and perhaps Eren, would hear him and know he was thankful. He knew Jean and he could think of worse people to spill his guts to. Jean wasn't all that bad once you got to know him; a good first impression was just a little something he needed to work on. Armin nodded once more, convincing himself it was the right thing to do, before explaining to Jean the ugliest part of his life.**

Did you know that legally you can't have an abortion after around 24 weeks of pregnancy? (In some circumstances, if the mother's life is at risk or if the baby might be born with severe disabilities, there isn't a strict limit) Armin Arlert knew it. It was something he'd been taught throughout his whole childhood.

That was the first out of three things his parents taught him. The second thing was this; his parents really despised having a child, and it didn't matter what Armin could do, he wasn't about to change their minds. He tried to be the best child he could be for them, but that was never good enough because he was still breathing.

The third lesson they taught him was the important of silence. That even when someone was hitting and kicking and breaking your bones, you shouldn't let a sound out because when you did they'd only come back for more round because they didn't want to hear you as you lament over the ruins of your life and they didn't want to see you openly weeping and cowering in a corner, didn't want to see the tears mix in with the blood they just drew from your nose.

Armin by the age of five had become a shadow of a child. Like Peter Pan's shadow, completely detached from the happy child he should've been. He became used to the beatings, to the screams of hate, to everything they threw at him. He was used to the clinical surroundings of the hospital, could read a doctors slanted and messy writing, understood bits of medical talk He was used to it and understand the process of getting a broken arm fixed, he understood why he was there; because his parents put him there. He understood why; he didn't deserve to be loved. The doctors didn't understand it, he was always breaking something; fingers, toes, an arm every now and again. They might have understood if Armin had explain to them that if he closed his eyes and was asked to feel a fist blindly, he'd recognise its shape immediately and know that it how snuggly it could fit under his ribs if they were yielded that way. He slept to a lullaby consisting of the sounds of his mother's drunken singing, his father's shouts of rage and the shattering of bottles on walls. He slept under newspaper pages and made stories out of words he'd read in them; telling them to himself until he falls to sleep.

Armin Arlert knew that there was a fine line between hate and love, and that he'd always been struck with the left side.

That was until he met Eren. Eren Jaeger, who'd gotten himself a bloody nose, pulling Armin's older neighbour away from him. Armin had kept his eyes closed throughout the whole thing, accepting the fact that Eren would probably turn on him next. He didn't even flinch away when Eren roughly pulled him up, believing the boy's knee would slam into his gut any second. He even let him drag him, blindly, away from the spot without making a sound. "It's okay," Eren spoke finally, squeezing Armin's right hand in his, "I'll fix you right up." Armin had heard that before, but no matter how many times his parents said it, there was always something wrong with him the next day.

Armin could feel it building inside of him once again; Fear. A fear that spread swiftly through his blood and corrupts his heart. That was the worst part of his life for him; the fear. It didn't matter how used he grew to the pain of broken arms or fingers or to teeth breaking into his skin or any of those things that kept his body awake, with cells screaming at each other, in the darkness of night, he could never rid himself of the fear. It made every ounce of him feel heavier, like he was walking with hell's chains draped over him.

He didn't want to cry, if he cried _they'd_ know and he didn't want to give them another reason to loathe him, but Eren was holding onto his hand so tight and he could feel the tingling of tears building up behind his eyes. He was so scared he thought he might vomit, but if he did that _they'd _smell it on him and he didn't want them to be even angrier at him for it, so he swallowed the sickening taste of it back. He let it build up and up, until it was pressing against every inch of the inside of his body, but he didn't let it rip through him and taint the outside,_ they'd _know.

That's the thing with Armin's fear, if he let it go noticed by his devils they'd come after him with what terrifies him, and they were always scaring him so the fear never left. It was one endless cycle for the child.

Eren led him down a street much like his own and marched him up the steps of the house at the end. It looked like a home, Armin thought, finally opening his eyes, it didn't give off the feeling you should ever dread coming back here. It looked like a safe haven, but Armin couldn't believe it was. A woman with long brown hair, pulled into a hair band at the back of her head, opened the door before Eren could turn the handle; she looked frantic, causing Armin to automatically seize up with terror. He'd seen his mother look like this before so often he couldn't help it, because he'd only met one thing after that look and it wasn't love.

"Eren, I was so worried," the woman scooped Eren into her arms and cooed in his ear, a look of relief washing over her pretty face, but it was quickly rearranged with concern as she looked over Eren's head to peer at Armin. _Mother's don't make those faces,_ Armin thought with confusion. "I told you; no playing out today." The sentence had already left her mouth before she looked at Armin, but it finished soft as she looked him up and down.

"Mum, get off," Eren said, angrily, before tugging Armin closer to them. "I was just-" Eren didn't finish, his mother was already ushering Armin with into the house with a forced smile on her lips, but with eyes on him which were taking in every detail of him.

Kalura didn't leave Armin's side that afternoon; she patched him all up and made him lunch. She shook her head at the state of his clothes and sent Eren to get some of his old ones from upstairs. _He's had a growth spurt, so I was going to give them to a charity shop but you can't wear these, _she'd told Armin, circling her hand around his skinny wrist, _they might be a little big on you, though. _She'd pricked her fingers, sewing up his jeans and t-shirt before then deciding they weren't worth it and told him he could keep the ones Eren had given him instead.

Armin stayed silent throughout it all.

He never he told them his name, but when Eren asked if he wanted to come over the next day, he nodded, eagerly. Perhaps this was his little safe haven, with Eren and Kalura. That night Kalura told Eren that it would be good for Armin if he came over, she would never know that it was the worst thing Armin could do.

**Armin stopped talking, staring off at some point besides Mikasa's head, but he wasn't really seeing anything. His eyes, which always looked like they held all the secrets of the world, were unfocused and tears were breaking out like they'd been unlawfully locked in prison all their lives. These were the tears he'd held in then; some of them were tears of pain and fear, while others were of happiness and longing. Kalura had been the first mother he'd ever known, while Eren had been his first friend; his best friend. **

**Fate had taken Kalura away from him, too, and he hadn't ever properly grieved for her, like Eren had. Kalura had been everything his mother should have been, but had failed to be. The words he'd held in for so long freed themselves from him and met Jean's ears. "They hated her. My parents hated Kalura for what she did for me. They made me feel like I was a burden, something to hate when it was pushing down on you, but Kalura made me feel weightless, she made me feel loved. And Eren," His heart clenches painfully in his chest thinking about him, "I love him. He broke down the walls around me, he poked his head over the top and he showed me something better. They made me feel so happy even when everyone else was knocking me down." **

**Looking at Armin, Jean could feel this heart breaking for him, something he'd never felt before. He'd seen many different types of suffering in his short life; when his mother was ill, when his father left, when Mikasa had been hit by that car. But he'd never seen this type; the type of suffering that's always eating you up from the inside, one that consumes and you carry with your every breath, yet unable to ever let anyone hear it. Armin had made it his mission to bare it all by himself. Jean wanted to say something, anything that could lighten the load, but he felt in his bones that words would never suffice. It was a weight only Armin would carry and he would never give a little to anyone else. **

**It also hit him that this was why he cried quietly; it was a habit from hiding his tears from his parents. With that revelation came another one, the realisation that Armin didn't like being helped up after he'd been a victim to a bully at school because he'd never had someone to help him up when he was with his parents, that he didn't have anyone to rely on until Eren came along. **

**Maybe Jaeger isn't that bad after all, Jean resented the thought automatically. **

"**Whenever I went home after spending the day with them, my parents would look at me; clean and finally feed and they-" They tore him to shreds, Jean didn't need to hear what they'd done, looking at Armin he could see it painted plainly on his face. They'd made his life a living hell. Jean wanted to punch himself for making Armin share any of it. He should have just told him, shouldn't have been so curious. He closed his eyes, he'd been selfish, wanting more of Mikasa's life than he should want and realising too late that he'd get Armin's and Eren's too if that's what he was searching for. **

"**Armin," Jean breathed out, almost shocking himself by the torn edge it had taken. "You don't have to-" His words were failing him and leaving him blank. "I'm so sorry, you don't have to do this. I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'm sorry."**

"**No," Armin's wasn't even looking at him and Jean wondered if he was even paying all that much attention to him at all. "I have to say it. I need to say it. Please, because maybe she'll hear me and come back."**

**Jean didn't say anything but he was hoping for the same thing, too.**

Armin never told them about his parent's abuse. When he eventually started talking around them and they asked why he was always covered in bruises, he simply passed off as some boys bullying him. It was partially true, but their numbers had dwindled slightly after Eren had befriended him, and once Mikasa had come along they'd decreased drastically.

**Armin paused in his story, finally acknowledging Jean once more, who had interrupted him to ask him a question. "I'm sorry?" **

"**Why did Mikasa come along?" Jean asked again, feeling like he was missing half of the story. "Did she move near you?" Armin looked at Jean like he'd just told him that apples were actually pears and they in fact tasted like grapes. **

"**No," Armin said, slowly, his mind spinning back through every conversation they'd ever had, unravelling them each in turn until he realises they'd never spoken about it before. "Mikasa lived with Eren, Jean. Didn't you know that?" **

"**What?"**

"**They adopted her, after the-" Armin was about to call what happened to her family an accident, but unlike Kalura's death, it wasn't. "No one's ever told you?" He asks in disbelief. They'd never went out of their way to not talk about it, but then again it was rarely brought up, and most people had heard about the incident anyway so there was little need for them to ever explain it to people. Jean shook his head in answer, guilt starting to press down on him. "After her parents **_**died**_**, the Jaegers took her in." **

**Jean's jaw hurt from where it had dropped open. "They're adopted brother and sister?" He asks, somewhat stupidly.**

"**Don't use the a-word in front of Mikasa," Armin smiles slightly at her, "To her, Eren is her brother; for better, for worse. Hadn't you noticed?" Jean shook his head, his mind reeling. He'd been jealous of Eren the moment he'd met him and it had taken Jean three years, a car crash and a conversation one party hadn't wanted to have for him to realise that he'd misunderstood the whole situation. "Seriously? Why did you think she was always looking out for him?" Saving his ass, and his ego, was another way of looking at it.**

"**I thought she loved him."**

"**Siblings tend to love each other, Jean." **

"**No, I mean; **_**loved **_**him." He didn't really feel like spelling out what he'd thought to Armin. He'd never really considered them having a purely platonic relationship before, even after she'd said last night he still hadn't really thought of it that way. Even though he thought he understood last night, talking to Armin had hammered the point straight through his brain. The point that they were a family and that's all Mikasa wanted. **

**Meanwhile, the tips of Armin's ears had turned pink, but thankfully they went unnoticed by Jean, and Armin was glad Jean couldn't read thoughts because he might have been a little surprised by the content of them right then. Jean might be a little surprised to realise that, yes, one of the trio were in love with Eren, but that Mikasa was the wrong corner of the triangle, "Sorry, you don't have to carry on if you don't want to."**

**It took him a while but Armin's thoughts finally returned to where they were before Jean interrupted and he carried on, picking up the story a little further down from when he'd left off. **

Kalura died.

People read the articles and their hearts split apart for her son, for the daughter she'd adopted after her parents were murdered. Their hearts felt heavy with sadness when they thought about her widowed-husband. They shook their heads when they heard about the accident and they all left flowers on the spot she was hit. But no one's heart broke for the little boy who used to run to her house when he was too scared to go home. No one knew to spare a thought for the little boy who'd found a new happiness with the family.

Eren got angry and locked himself away.

Mikasa grew sad, but didn't crumble with grief.

Armin acted like it wasn't destroying him inside.

He acted like he'd grieved the loss and was now concerned with helping Eren.

Twelve years old and he was struggling to keep the good scrapes of his life, sewn together. He was desperately grasping for some good moments and trying to stitch them into a patchwork blanket that could cover up all the bad ones.

Hannes turned into his new Kalura. He wasn't a mother, but he was a good uncle figure and he treated Armin with the same tenderness he'd picked up after a week of caring for Mikasa and Eren. He even let them all call him Uncle, nicknaming them his 'Shiganshina Trio' when people asked after them.

**Armin glanced up at Jean, "And then she started to notice." He reached over and gently swept the hair that always hung over Mikasa's face and tucked it behind her ear, opening her face up and making her look more girly, making her look younger than ever. "She said, one night when Eren was showering and we were watching a show about water snakes or something like that," Armin takes another sip of the coffee Jean had brought him, wincing as it's assaults his taste buds, "She said I have a give-away, something that I do when I'm lying." **

"First, you try to change the subject," Mikasa's fiddling with the edge of her scarf, her eyes trained to the flickering images on the television, but her minds full of Armin. "If that doesn't work, the trick is that you tense up and then glance at whoever you're lying to hands." Armin could've pointed out that was nothing, that it wasn't really a giveaway, but he knew it was true and a part of him he couldn't believe she'd spotted it. It was a habit he'd picked up after the few times he'd told a fib to his parents ended him with a black eye. He'd realised he could prepare himself to the shock if he watched for it. "Tell the truth, Armin." Mikasa rarely spoke, but when she did, she made you listen. She wasn't one for wasting words on people who weren't going to listen.

"**I told her everything." Armin's throat felt like it was closing up around the words, "My parents would've killed me if I had gone back that night and they'd found out." Jean wasn't all that sure that he was simply just using an expression; he got the impression that reaction wouldn't have been too far off the truth. "My parents taught me to not talk. They showed me how to lie and cover up how I was really feeling. They taught me I was better off quiet and zipped up. I don't know how Mikasa realised it, but she asked all the right questions." If it weren't for what they were talking about, Jean might have been distracted by the look of adoration that settles upon his face when talking about her. In some ways it was one of the most beautiful feelings he'd ever seen conveyed on a face before. If he could paint it right then, he wouldn't have let the chance go. "She's just like a big sister to me. She told Eren and together we all told Hannes." Armin could remember it so clearly, their hands all wrapped in each other's as Armin told them everything. He could remember how angry Eren had gotten on his behalf. He could remember Hannes and Mikasa rolling their eyes at him and having to talk Eren down. He could remember Hannes telling him to stay at theirs tonight. "I couldn't have done it without them. I love them so much. They saved me. They're always saving me and I do nothing for them, and, now; now when Mikasa needs saving, I can't do anything." He's like a porcelain doll with cracks decorating every limb and they cling to his voice, too. There are so many cracks about Armin Arlert that Jean realises he must be so much stronger than he looks to keep them all together this way. "I just want to give something back to them and right now, I can't see that I'll ever be able to do that. I need her to wake up so I can spend the rest of my life thanking her, thanking Eren, because they changed my life, and I don't want there to ever be a time when they're not there; live together, die together." His voice rises, "I don't like claiming someone is a 'good person' or 'bad person' because one good person might be another person's nightmare, but they **_**are**_** good people, Jean. They are the best people in the whole world and I've been nothing but a burden who hasn't told them that. I need them to know, Jean, or I don't know what to do."**

**Outside, Eren pushes his ear away from the door, pushing his nails into his temples until they draw blood, and backs away from it shaking his head; accidently bumping into Nurse Levi as he does, and then he runs away, like Mikasa did last night, tears streaming angrily from his eyes; his heart shattering into a million pieces and leaving him empty, opening him up to the flood of guilt he was feeling. **


End file.
